


Noblest of Hounds

by clockworkgirl221



Series: The Communicator [3]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, F/M, M/M, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkgirl221/pseuds/clockworkgirl221
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carolyn Knapp-Shappey calls upon her resident Communicator for help. Or rather, her son whines her into calling her resident Communicator for help. Also, Martin gets paid, Douglas and Martin double-date with Herc and Carolyn, and Calliope questions her place in Martin's life (because even cats can question their relationships with people, even though they usually don't...).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noblest of Hounds

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of these characters, except Calliope Darkfur. No money is being made in the writing or posting of this fic. (Just thought I'd let you all know.)

Carolyn was all set for a perfect date with Hercules. A client had called to reschedule, giving everyone a day off, which was just fine for her. Arthur had a date coming over for ‘dog walkies’ as the girl called it, and bade Arthur call it as well. As long as her boy was happy, Carolyn wouldn’t say anything.

With both of the Shappeys out on dates, and Snoopadoop taken care of, Carolyn was sure everything was going to be fine.

Until Hercules, followed by Arthur’s date, a blonde, young, Miss Pippa Winstein, came through the door. As Snoopadoop came in to the room to greet the great wooly sheepdog Pippa so fondly called Rumpelsmoosh (oh dear Lord, it’s spread), the Cockapoo suddenly yipped loudly in a non-Snoopadoop-like fashion. Carolyn saw the dog sit, and, if the dog were at all human, she might have been biting her lip in pain.

“Mum! Something’s wrong with Snoopadoop!” Arthur cried, rushing to the small dog. Pippa and Rumpelsmoosh were right behind, the sheepdog loping in a comical fashion.

“I can see that, Arthur,” Carolyn said, giving a withering look to Hercules in apology before going to the dog. “I don’t know what _could_ be wrong, however…”

Hercules shut the door, sighing, and came over to the group and looked over the dog, who refused to show that she was in pain now that everyone was paying attention to her, and almost slunk away, as if embarrassed that she had made any noise about her injury at all.

“Can’t Skipper talk to her about it?” Arthur asked. And as an aside to Pippa added, “Skip’s brilliant. He comes from a clan of witches and can talk to animals and planes and brilliant stuff like that.”

It was all right to say stuff like that in front of Hercules. Hercules came from a prominent witch family as well, though he was one of the few people who didn’t have a Path and really didn’t care.

Pippa only beamed, “My Mum’s a practicing Healer. She uses herbs and things, though, nothing like the famed Crieff family matriarch in Bristol.”

“Skip’s a Crieff, actually,” Arthur said.

Pippa’s blue eyes widened, “That _is_ brilliant!”

So that was why Martin was in the Shappey house, Douglas (his ride) behind him as the ginger placed his hand on the dog’s forehead. “Afternoon, Snoopadoop…”

The dog looked up at Martin with a signature puppy pout before she said, “It took me completely by surprise.”

Snoopadoop, being about two or three years old and being a rather small dog, sounded like a small child: perhaps a nine- or ten-year-old. No surprise there.

“What did?” Martin asked, looking down at Calli, who was looking over at the dog with a pensive glare in her dark eyes. Martin chalked it up to the whole war between cats and dogs, comically touched on in that badly made film a few years ago.

“I don’t know! I was playing in the backyard yesterday and suddenly my ankle started to hurt! I thought I had gotten a splinter but nothing was there!”

“Which ankle, lovely?” Martin cooed. He was lacing his voice with a certain Hypnotic that calmed the creatures (and inanimate objects) down a little so they could better talk to him. Sometimes putting a cutsie word in to his speech made the Hypnotic work even better.

Snoopadoop extended her right paw up, looking up at the ginger-haired man with big eyes. Martin huffed a small laugh as he took the paw gingerly and carefully squeezed each part of it. Snoopadoop gave a short bark in protest when he reached her ankle, and Carolyn almost bit Martin’s head off with her cry of, “Oh my god what’s wrong with her?”

“Carolyn, she’s fine. Martin’s just checking to see where the injury is,” Douglas said, reaching for a Popsicle stick that he had found on a desk in the front hall.

He bent down next to the dog, broke the stick in half, and with a couple rubber bands that he found in the pocket of his jeans, crafted a crude splint for the dog. “Well, what the diagnosis, Dr. Crieff?”

“Ankle, probably a muscle torn or something. Nothing fatal, but I would get a veterinarian’s opinion,” Martin said, getting out of Douglas’s way as the other pilot worked.

“We’ll take her, Ms. Knapp-Shappey,” Pippa said, taking Arthur’s hand and pulling at Rumpelsmoosh’s leash.

“Thank you, children,” Carolyn said, smiling slightly.

Douglas picked up the smaller dog and handed her gently to Arthur, who cradled her like a child as he and Pippa (and her giant sheepdog) went out the door toward Pippa’s car.

Carolyn sat, defeated, in an armchair. Hercules rubbed her shoulders as they slumped forward, “You really are attached to that dog, aren’t you?”

“Oh, do be quiet, Herc,” she said, but her usual snark was layered with exhaustion.

Douglas wiped his hands on his jeans, probably from all the misplaced tension in the room. “Shall I make us something? I have a feeling you two were bound for a date before Snoopadoop’s… interruption?”

“I’m starving, Dougie,” Hercules said with a mild sneer.

“I wasn’t doing it for you,” Douglas replied, equal parts sneer and worry lacing his words. He disappeared into Carolyn’s kitchen to begin cooking.

Martin sat on the couch, his thumbs twiddling. Calli leaped up and rubbed against his side. Martin smiled at her and stroked her.

Douglas was his ride, and if Douglas was staying, Martin was stuck.

“It’s not all bad,” Calli said, a slight purr in her voice. “You’re among friends.”

“Oh, Martin?” Carolyn said, glancing at the captain of her airplane, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Carolyn,” Martin replied.

“You could make that into a fashionable business, Martin,” Hercules added. “My uncle is a Communicator as well. The Wordsmith variety. His Path allows him to write great stories that make his readers want even more, and thus they buy his books more often. You could go around Communicating with animals and engines and other things for a fee…”

“Oh yes, Herc, he could be a regular Horse Whisperer,” Carolyn replied, her usual snark working it’s way back.

“I thought of that,” Martin replied, shrugging slightly in slight embarrassment, “But I’d rather be a volunteer pilot and a box-humper… I like my Path and all but… it’s not really a business-like Path.”

“Well…” Hercules said, reaching in his back pocket for something, “I want to give you some money anyway, for all the work you’ve done in the past month.”

“Herc!” Carolyn said, standing up and whirling on her… boyfriend.

“Don’t bite my head off!” Hercules replied, putting his hands in the air like he was in a stick-up. In his right hand he had his checkbook, and he was soon rifling in one of the desks for a pen. “And you talked about paying Martin for the few things he’s done: the engine thing a few weeks back, and again in Washington D.C. And then there was your car last week, and your ridic—and your dog this week… Is one hundred pounds a good sum?”

“But… I can’t take money from you every time I want to thank Martin for his help!” Carolyn cried.

“And I can’t take money from you every time I use my Path to help you in some way!” Martin added.

“Just this once, Martin, Carolyn. Carolyn is stubborn, Martin, but I know she’s appreciated all your help, and I want to let you know that,” Hercules said coolly, writing out the check and tearing it out.

He handed it to Martin, who looked down at Calli, and then back at Hercules, “Thank you, Herc. And thank you Carolyn.” He didn’t want to keep the check, but Calli’s tail was twitching rather violently and Martin took that as a sign to shut his mouth about the whole thing.

“Food’s up, you three,” Douglas said, peeking from the kitchen and breaking the tension that had rebuilt itself in the last fifteen minutes.

Martin pocketed the money, still feeling rather guilty about it all, and followed Hercules and Carolyn to the dining room. He hung back in the kitchen as Douglas served Hercules and Carolyn in a very posh waiter-ly fashion. Hercules glanced at Martin and Douglas as they once more hung back in the kitchen together. “Well? Come eat with us, you two.”

“We can have a little double date,” Carolyn said (teasingly).

“A d-d-date?” Martin nearly shrieked. “We’re not—“

“They were kidding, _captain_ ,” Douglas replied, giving Martin a little push toward the dining room table as he served up two more platefuls of the fish he had managed to curry and the couscous he had found behind something disgusting in the cupboard.

Martin played with his food for a moment, embarrassed that he had put words into the others’ mouths before Calli leapt up on to the table and stole a bit of fish from his plate. “Hey!” he shouted.

“A familiar’s got to eat too, Martin,” Douglas replied, trying not to chuckle.

“And this really is a like a double date, dear Martin,” Calli said, a slight sparkle in one eye, like a flashing wink, as she looked first at the redhead, and then at his first officer.

“Shut _up_!” Martin growled, both to Douglas and the black cat; both the cat and the pilot were chuckling childishly then.

*****

Martin was still blushing as he got to his cramped attic apartment. “If _you_ thought it was a date… then it probably was,” he said as Calli jumped up onto the bed.

She shrugged an affirmative as she kneaded the blanket. Martin took Herc (and Carolyn)’s check out of his back pocket and put it on his bedside table, determined to get it into his checking account before he got guilty again and forgot about it. It would pay for a couple days of food, perhaps even a couple weeks, if he were economical.

“A familiar is half of a person’s soul once he or she finds their witch,” Calli purred. Martin sat down and stroked her for a moment.

They sat in a comfortable silence, Martin thinking about Douglas (u-uhm, no! No I wasn’t!), and Calli… well, thinking (seriously, does her brain ever shut off?).

“Hey Martin?” Calli meowed.

Martin looked down at her as he continued to stroke her sleek black fur. In the light of the moon outside, her fur looked almost… blue. “What, Calli?”

“Do you ever wish you had a dog familiar?” she asked.

“Why would I want a dog familiar?”

“A familiar often is likened to the Native American spirit animal from the Americas: an animal that the person in question is most like. You strike me more as some kind of dog than a cat…” Calli explained.

Martin mulled it over for a moment. “I’m happy with _you_ , Calliope Darkfur. We might not compliment each other all the way, but from what I’ve seen, you are my better half.”

Calli looked at him, blinking her dark eyes, “That’s not true.”

Martin’s face twisted in confusion, and Calli continued, “ _You’re_ the better half of _me_. You’re not always thinking like I am, and if you are, your thoughts are more practical than my thoughts.”

Martin exhaled breathily, the sound more like a laugh than much else. That was the point, actually. He put a hand on his familiar’s head and scratched a practically perfect spot behind her ear, “Then we’re _each other’s_ better halves.”

Calli purred louder, “That, I can live with.”


End file.
